Christmas 2004, I opened a scroll of paper having a fancy border and bearing the following words:

Santa really did come
And he brought you a gift.
No lumps of coal,
But something that’s fit
For the king that you are
In the eyes of your girls.

You’ll get on the plane
With Catherine in tow
And land in New York
(We hope with no snow).
A concert at Carnegie Hall is in store
For the man who loves music,
The man we adore!

At the airport you’ll hook up
With Susanna (I hope)
And for 3 days and 2 nights
We won’t let you mope!
We’ll explore and have fun
Seeing old sights and new
We’re excited and hope
That you will be too.

Prob’ly sometime in April
This journey will start. 
Who knows?
We may even hear Mozart!
We’ll give you the details
Once they’ve been made.
Just know that your flight,
Room, and ticket are paid!

New York….here we come!

‘Twas the night before Christmas-in-April began that we sat in the rec. room, a movie to scan. We had just settled down to enjoy the show when the telephone rang, now wouldn’t you know. An airline gal said, “Your trip has been changed. Storms ‘round Atlanta have your schedule deranged.” 

And so it began. Our connecting flight had been cancelled, and to arrive at New York at a proper time, we would have to leave before 6:00 am instead of late morning. We gave up the movie, finished packing our duds and went to bed for short naps. Catherine drove us to the airport where we got into the “hurry up and wait” line. We boarded the airplane on schedule. Had our revised schedule held, we’d have had time for a good afternoon nap after we arrived. But no such luck. After sitting in the plane for half an hour we were advised to return to the terminal and wait for further instructions. While we waited, Susanna likewise waited in Tampa. Having left about two hours late we all arrived in Atlanta only to find that our connecting flight had been cancelled. I supposed that we would end up heading back home rather than onward. Following a couple of long walks through the airport we were advised of another flight from a different concourse where we might get on standby. After another longer walk we made it to the flight area and got on the standby list. My hope of going on had not risen, but after a good while the plane was boarded and we were admitted aboard. We arrived in Newark a few minutes ahead of our original schedule, before the phone call, that is. A taxi ride of a little more than half an hour landed us at our hotel.

Our trip back home was no less frustrating. We awoke to a rainy day, a day we had hoped to use for seeing some of the sights. I could see from my window that the top floors of the Empire State Building were shrouded in the clouds. I had noticed a peculiar hazard of walking the streets, the risk of getting stabbed in the eye by the rib of an umbrella. Anyway, we were all tired and decided to hang around the hotel and entertain ourselves as long as they would have us. 

A taxi got us to Laguardia airport two hours before our flight time. At boarding time our airplane was flying in circles, waiting for permission to land. It landed an hour late at Newark airport. After a while we were told that two airplanes were flying around in the clouds and the first of these to arrive would be dispatched as our transportation. So far as I know they may be still flying in circles. Eventually an airplane was made available for a flight to Atlanta. It was a Boeing 757. Leaving Susanna in the terminal, Catherine and I made the long trek to its gate and boarded while the plane rocked and bucked in the wind. Once seated, it looked as if we had walked a block since entering the plane. Two flights must have been combined to require a 757. 

The flight to Atlanta was uneventful, but of course, much too late. We had to spend the night at a hotel and wait for the morning flight home. We were glad to get word that Susanna’s flight to Tampa had delivered her in time for her to sleep in her own bed. My story up to this point confirms a favorite old saying, “When you have time to spare, go by air”.

There are a few things that I should mention perhaps, before I close this saga. What happened between travel obstacles? The day between our coming and going was a gray day without rain, not very good for viewing scenery . We decided to experience the subway and go to the botanical gardens. We found the place and discovered that spring had just arrived. Crocus and daffodils were in bloom and buds swelled on some of the bare branches. We could only imagine how it would look a month hence. We turned our attention to the conservatory. Many exotic plants thrived there. The most interesting to me were the bonzi trees. A wide variety was to be seen, some forty years old and only a foot tall. See what starvation can do?

We got back from or outing in time to eat a bite and despite Susanna’s

broken rib, walk about three of those long blocks to a theater where “Chicago, the Musical” was playing. I though it was a dumpy place, having enough room for the audience to sit, but barely more. Restrooms were located upstairs on the balcony level and hard to track down. At intermission the lines extended from the foot of the stairs to the balcony. I was, indeed, glad there was no fire alarm heard. The show was entertaining. It was a song and dance routine, having a flimsy plot with “special effects” along the way. The dancing was excellent.

Our main reason for the trip was well rewarded. Carnegie Hall didn’t look so impressive on the outside, but inside it was a different story. The hall was evidently patterned after European opera houses, with semicircles of box seats over the back of the main floor. We entered through the opulent lobby and up a flight of stairs to a long curving hallway with many doors on one side. Pictures of many world famous musicians who performed there hung on the wall where there was no door. We entered by a door designated by our tickets, walked through a small cloakroom, through a second doorway and into our box. I was flabbergasted to be among the best seats in the house. How do I know that? The lady present when we arrived told us so. She was evidently a regular patron of that box, and had many good words to prove her point. I have no reason to doubt her. From our vantage point nearly all of Isaac Stern Auditorium, from the stage to the five rows of box seats, was visible. The color was a pleasing cream pastel. The hall alone is merely a pretty landmark. When a fine orchestra is playing, it becomes an instrument of pure pleasure. The pleasure was enhanced for me by the sublime music of Mozart. Being just the right size for the music, the Orchestra of St. Luke’s played “Piano Concerto No. 25” and “Symphony No. 38” plus short pieces by two other composers. I can’t imagine that it could have been better. 

Considering the barriers set up by the weather, and the fact that I was worn down from a cold, was the trip worth while? I would certainly vote “yes”. My daughters were extravagantly thoughtful of their old dad, and we all had a merry Christmas in April.

NOTE: Conductor, Donald Runnicles; Piano, Ivan Moravec.